Excruciation

Dada, Its what I used to call my paternal grandfather. A man with vision, an Inspiring person, someone to look up to. There is something that is making me think about him for almost all of today. I wonder what it is. There are a lot of things that only I and grandpa shared all along, and I think I’m going to share those things with the world today. I lost grandpa on the 13th of January 2006.

Dada was born somewhere around 1939, no one knows for sure, they didn’t note it down sadly. All they knew was he was born a few months before a cousin of his who was born sometime in July 1939. He didn’t study much, Eighth grade is all he did, met grandma, fell in love, and got married at eighteen. There started his rollercoaster ride in this big wild world that he tamed. Grandpa inherited a big fortune at the age of about twenty six, and so did his seven brothers and two sisters when they lost their father. But grandpa was self made by then, ran a successful business of exporting shrimps and other seafood.

The story I’m now narrating is one very close to my heart, its one of my first recollection of grandpa in a business role model sense. This happened during the course of him running the seafood export unit. I was talking to him about competition, and how to handle the pressure of competition. Grandpa was traveling when this happened; a manager who was working with him had directly got a large order for shrimps from a large importer. Greed, which is the let down on all of mankind, took over this manager. He approached a loan shark and borrowed heavily to buy shrimps and export to this client that he had. The cost of a kilogram of shrimps was eight rupees; the buyer was paying about 15 rupees. The man would have made a fortune, and it was exactly what he was expecting. When grandpa returned to town he found things to be haywire, he was also burdened with a fresh contract to supply shrimps to another buyer. Since the manager has resigned, grandpa went out himself to buy the shrimps, but realized that there wasn’t any available in the market because the manager had bought it all up, and even that at inflated prices. He had paid up to thirteen rupees a kilogram for the shrimps, which hardly left a decent margin to trade in the shrimps. Grandpa would have bought it even at thirteen or even at thirty just to keep his word, but it was all sold out, and pre booked for another week. Grandpa’s contract would expire within a week. He then sat and thought what to do while he was very upset with the manager on betraying his trust like that. He then got an idea, and asked him staff to go and buy all the ice around a hundred kilometer radius from Cochin, which they did. At the end of the day, the manager had all the shrimps, but no ice to stock, pack and ship it. He came back to grandpa and returned it at half the price. I was shocked to hear this; grandpa looked at my face sternly and said ‘This is what we do to dirty competition’

Everyone called him Baba out of affection. Grandpa was flamboyant, and also extravagant. I wouldn’t count that against him, it made him what he was. But it did get him into trouble with the tax authorities, and that crippled his business making him go bankrupt in 1972. Those were bad times I’ve been told, kids to educate, a family to feed. Life really isn’t a bed of roses. And I’ve been there to, experienced and felt the bad times, but that’s another story for another time.

From 1972 until 1992, the family struggled, but only financially, the bonds were strong. He continued keeping up with family and friends. He moved to Chennai, then Madras, in 1977. Somewhere between that, I was born.6th of April 1986, and I was reminded how I was born by grandpa many times. ‘When you were born, there were twenty people around you smiling, when you die, there should be two million people around the world crying. Do something that big, no point in living life small’. And every time he said that, he would make me cry. Make me cry at the expectations he had from me, but he always showed me that he thought I was capable. I could never cry, or even have wet eyes in front of him; it would thoroughly upset him and make him go wild.

He brought me up along with my parents, by the time I knew how much a boy needed a father’s attention and love, my dad was very busy with work. I don’t blame he, his is just as busy even today, though I get to spend a lot of time with him at the workplace. But grandpa never let me feel what I was missing. He dropped me to school , picked me up everyday, brought me chicken tikka everyday when he was back from the office, spent time with me, took me out on the weekends, basically made sure I didn’t miss anything as a child. I was pampered, but at the same time thought what was right and wrong, survival tips in this dirty world and a lot more that I still cherish to this day.

But then came the time that he wanted to move back to him city of birth, after spending a year and a half at Bangalore developing the family’s business there, the place he had once ‘ruled’ over, Cochin. The year was 1997, I had just turned eleven. I knew I would miss him more than anything else, and it turned out to be true. But like all men, I don’t show affection in person, this is the first time I am actually expressing this affection that I had secretly shared with him.


In 1999, he broke both his legs while dancing on stage during my cousin’s wedding. This was a massive turning point in his life, he was a man that didn’t depend on anyone for anything, and at sixty, no one was sure if his legs would get alright, he was bed ridden in Chennai for more than a year. Slowly undergoing surgery, physiotherapy etc, but he was strong willed and made it. One year and a few days later, he was on the train back to Cochin, his home at the time. That one year or so that he was here, I learnt a lot from him. I was a more mature boy by then, and my dad was living in Paris at the time, so there were a lot of responsibilities, small ones, but still. I was thought how to handle people, guests, bills and a lot of other important stuff that grandpa thought a ‘young dynamic boy’ needed to know. I appreciate the efforts he took to teach me all that while lying there bedridden. That was the first time I saw him cry, crying with self pity. It hurts me to this day that I didn’t step up and just go give him a hug then.

When grandpa was back in Cochin, he redeveloped the group’s real estate business there, took part in a lot of social service, served on many of their boards and even founded a social service group called MANS which aimed at bringing solidarity in the community. It was his attempt at creating something like the YMCA. His last few years were spent on social causes and that one of visit to the office.

He visited Chennai on the 21st of May 2005, he wasn’t looking to good and mum insisted that he goes for a check up; he was detected with esophageal cancer. Here is an extract of the blog entry, from the blog that I was writing at that point of time, that I did that particular day,

Got up at 9 am, my grandpa called me over to his room and told me he had Cancer....Spoke to him, had breakfast with him. He kept saying ‘stop smoking look what it done to me.’ Ironically, I have been trying to cut down from a couple of days back. Loosing count so I though I’ll put it on my blog everyday. I’ve been hitting 60 fags a day last week, so need to cut down.Not too happy, grandpa gone to his home town, wanted to spend time there. I miss him. I will miss him; doc says he’s got anything from a week to 2 months left... He looked me in the eye and told me. I must have cried for the most of yesterday, just kept smiling when he was in front. Well had to, I didn’t see a tear in his eye. He was happy; he thinks his time has come. I’m proud of him and everything I’ve learned from him. He set a high standard and made me get to it, not even close but still…


Everyday seemed like ages, he moved from Chennai back to Cochin, then back to Chennai and then to Bangalore. He covered everyplace that he had friends or family in, meeting everyone, letting them catch those last glimpses of him. And people came, people came in hordes. He had so many friends, and kept in touch with the entire family. People I don’t know by name, he knows who they are, what they do, what they like to eat, basically just about everything.

He kept getting weaker and weaker as the cancer ate him up from the inside. He was very conscious about his appearance. He would never let anyone see him the way he was now, but he had no go. I went to Cochin on the 10th of January to spend sometime with him, while I was there, we spoke a bit, and he told me what exactly he expects of me as the family’s only male heir. One incident that I can never forget was on the morning of the 11th; I was sitting with him and massaging his legs, when someone rang the door bell. He immediately asked me to go and close the room door and then pointed out for me to bolt it. I did, and was called back next to him. He then asked me to fetch his razor and some shaving cream as he refused to see anyone the way he was looking at the moment. I hesitated; this was a man who at the time couldn’t even stand up on his feet strong without support. But I had to listen, his voice was that commanding. I helped him shave, but messed up with holding the mirror right for him. He took out all his frustration on me for that, but I am proud he picked me to take it out on. After he was done shaving, he asked me to sit down, put his arm around my shoulders and apologized. When I told him that there was absolutely no need for an apology, he smile and asked me to go and take his entire collection of watches from his home. Which I did, those watches have been my fantasy for years now. Then I got asked to go open the door and let the guest’s in. Even a day before he passed, he was bothered about his appearance. I had to leave on the evening of the 12th back to Chennai as there was a lot of work pending. I was reluctant, but I had no option and grandpa kept telling me to go. I reached Chennai on the morning of the 13th, headed straight to the office, finished up work and got back home by ten. At Eleven I got a call from my dad who was also in Cochin at the time, that grandpa had passed. I was in shock, though I should have been prepared for it. Home alone with the rest of my family in Cochin with grandpa. What did I have to do to get there? Ten minutes later, another call from dad asking me if I had left and if I hadn’t to get there as quick as possible as the funeral was at five in the evening the next day, sixteen hours. I tried the airlines, all full, no trains, and no cabs. I can drive, but I had never driven long distance before, and I didn’t even have a driving license. But I had no go, this was what grandpa was famous for, making people do things they never thought they would ever do. I drove, fifteen hours straight to reach there on time. And I did, staring mind , body and soul, but I just had to have that last glimpse of that man I loved.

After two massive highway traffic jam’s a communist procession, five breaks for tea and a ten minute powernap I reached there at fifteen minutes to five. The street was full of people and vehicles, I drove amongst the familiar faces staring at me , while the strain of the journey was kicking in. I moved along and parked the car in the middle of the street while someone offered to park it for me. Bless Him. I walked into the driveway of the house, while the crowd parted to give me way. I saw my dad first, weeping. I have never seen him cry before. Met my aunts, Still speechless, then there was mum, that’s when the tears burst out and my vocal cords were reactivated. ‘Where is Dadi?’ is asked while looking around for my grandma amongst the crowd. Saw here sitting there, not an emotion on her face. Walked up to her and hugged her, it seemed to have lasted for ever. Slowly walked over to the freezer box, saw my proud old man lying down there, motionless. I could feel the stares from all the people around me, so many of them; I barely knew five percent of the people present there. I stood and stared at my grandpa’s face. Would this be the last time I saw him? Why, I questioned myself. Then came the burst of tears, uncontrollable emotions. This was it, the end. I had to accept it then and there, but it was hard. Sat staring at him all the way to the cemetery, and kept looking down the grave while the ritual’s were taking place. Clutched a fist full of sand and put it over his body, we all need to die someday I thought. But I didn’t move, just stood there speechless and crying. Stood for over an hour. Then came the night , dinner with family and friends , stories about the good times…

This is what my Daddy told me
I wished he would hold me
A little more than he did
But he told me my culture
And how to live positive
I never wanna shame
The blood in my veins and bring pain
To my sweet grandfathers face in his resting place
I make haste to learn and not waste everything my forefathers earned in tears
For my culture


I had him tell me, “I want the world to remember me as your Grandfather “

I want it the other way round...